


Trot

by TheDeathEcchi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Hand & Finger Kink, Hands, Humor, Smut, dance lessons, meihem reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:57:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeathEcchi/pseuds/TheDeathEcchi
Summary: Were someone to tell her she'd end up in bed with one of the deadliest members of her team, she'd smile, chuckle politely, and schedule a psych evaluation first thing the next morning. But that's exactly what had ensued, all over something so innocuous...





	Trot

**Author's Note:**

> A while back, when I mentioned some concerns about not being able to make it to Paradise City Comic Con, a dear friend from the Meihem server, Kira by name, Meep by nature, expecting nothing in return, and totally of her own volition, gave me money in an effort to ease the financial strain. While I ended up getting a ride with a friend who was also volunteering, that was still probably one of the most selfless things anyone has EVER done for me in my entire fucking life. And even though she expected nothing in return, I felt the need to pay her back somehow, which led to the creation of this fic. She deserves all the good things, and I hope she, and all the rest of the good Overwatch fam like this! Truthfully, I've never written Mercyhog in my life, no have I ever written anything involving hands, but hey, it's me. How bad could it be~? ;3

How had it come to this? was the chief thought in Angela's head as she nestled into Roadhog's arms. His clothes were on the floor, along with her dress, his mask catching the silvery moonlight. Her breath came out in shaky, husky gasps, legs still jellied from their previous activities. 

Were someone to tell her she'd end up in bed with one of the deadliest members of her team, she'd smile, chuckle politely, and schedule a psych evaluation first thing the next morning. But that's exactly what had ensued, all over something so innocuous...

-/-/-/-/-

Morning in the mess hall, and with a mission lull, those present were able to enjoy their breakfast at a much more leisurely pace, instead of wolfing down what they could before the Orca took off without them. Roadhog sat in his usual spot at the end of one bench, delicately eating a plate of eggs and hash browns and looking over the paper.

"Oi, Roadie!" The elder junker sighed. And his day had started out so peaceful.

Junkrat clapped Roadhog on his broad back and chortled. "Gotta thank ya, mate! Those dance lessons you gave me? Mei loves 'em! Cheers!" Without even waiting for a reply, Junkrat sauntered off, whistling a jazzy tune to himself as he went.

Sighing in only mild irritation, he returned to his breakfast, only to realize he was no longer alone. Angela stood at the counter, preparing a cup of tea, a bemused expression on her face. "Dance lessons?"

Roadhog huffed, flipping over the paper.

"I didn't know you could dance." murmured Angela, taking the seat opposite the Australian.

"How else would I give lessons." He rumbled, more statement than question.

Minutes passed and he looked up. Angela was staring at him, regarding him with that curious look that always creeped him out. Like he was being put under a microscope. Roadhog was not one to be analyzed. 

"What."

"Nothing." Angela replied, that damn smile playing on her lips. In two cubes of sugar went to her cup, and she stirred delicately, pinky out, her spoon not even clinking against the cup. "There's just so many layers to you that I keep discovering, Roadhog."

"Hm."

The two sat in silence, Roadhog finishing his breakfast, Angela halfway through her tea. 

"Would you mind teaching me?"

Roadhog looked up, positive he hadn't heard her correctly. "What?"

"Dancing. Would you mind teaching me? With all the free time we have, I figure it would be a good way to spend it."

Roadhog set aside his plate and paper, pulling his mask back over his mouth. "Why should I?"

"You'd be doing a friend a favor. You'd be helping someone fulfill a youthful dream."

"...You're funny."

Angela huffed and rolled her eyes. "Alright...what if I got you something in return? One of those dolls you adore so much? Would that be a fair trade?"

Even through the mask, the doctor could tell Roadhog was glaring at her. "You think you can bribe me?"

"Well, Jamison did."

He had no rebuttal for that. Technically, she was right.

"How about this. The next time you come in with a serious injury..." She cocked an eyebrow. "...which is likely to be the very next mission...when I'm healing you, I'll be completely silent."

Now _that_ was a tempting offer. "No nagging?"

"Not even a little." She made an X over her chest. "Cross my heart, hope to...well, you know how it goes."

"...Rec room two. Twenty minutes. Wear dancing shoes."

" _Danke_ *." Smiling in satisfaction, she returned to her tea.

-/-/-/-/-

Twenty minutes later found Angela standing in the rec room, clad in a simple white dress and black Mary Janes. Roadhog had been waiting, but had apparently changed in the interim, clad in a black tuxedo that barely covered his bulging belly. As usual, his mask stayed.

Crossing his arms Roadhog faced the doctor. "What do you want to learn first?"

Angela didn't need to think long. "Waltz."

She could've sworn she heard him mutter 'Of course' under his breath.

The junker lumbered to the sound system and clicked it on, an elegant waltz coming through the speakers. 

"I'll lead." he rasped. Angela had no objections.

He held out a hand, Angela sliding snugly into his grip. It wasn't until she was in his arms and she tried to awkwardly wrap her own around Roadhog's waist that she realized two things: his arms, massive and thick as they were, were surprisingly delicate. 

"You have such lovely hands, Roadhog." she teased.

He huffed. "Don't make it weird."

For someone as tall and wide as Roadhog, Angela was astounded on how light on his feet he was. His steps were airy, as if he was floating, and he guided Angela with the skill and grace of a master. One, two, three, turn. One, two, three, turn. If her posture faltered, he'd straighten her. If a foot was out of place, he'd use his own gently into position. These were skills that could've only been cultivated with years of experience. What other secrets lied beneath that mask of his?

So lost was she in her thoughts, she missed a step and stumbled forward, the ground rushing up to meet her.

"Watch it!" Angela nearly had the wind knocked out of her as his meaty hand caught her chest and lifted her back up. "Could've hurt yourself."

Crimson bloomed across her cheeks as she realized Roadhog's hand was squeezing her chest, an action he himself noticed seconds later and quickly removed his hand.

"Done for the day." he said, a barely-noticeable hitch in his usual baritone.

"Same time tomorrow, then?" Angela asked. A nod was all she received before Roadhog ambled out of the room.

She reached up a hand to touch her breast, allowing a tiny smile to grace her features. "Such strong hands..."

-/-/-/-/-

Sleep was usually a bit difficult for Roadhog to attain. Whether it was being on his guard as he traveled the world with Junkrat on their efforts to rob the planet blind, or being kept awake by the mutterings of said mad bomber himself, sleep tended to stay just out of his grasp.

When he started spending more evenings with Mei, he was able to to gain a somewhat normal sleep cycle.

But now, he lied awake. Not because of a metal-limbed madman talking in his sleep. But because of his own thoughts. Thoughts consumed by an angel-faced, blonde medic, pressed close to him, moving so fluidly is was as though she were water.

Scoffing, to the images his brain conjured, himself, and his own foolishness, he groped in the darkness for his music player and headphones, clicking 'Play' and slapping them over his ears. The heavy twang and crash of Through the Fires and Flames blared out. But the sounds of heavy metal did nothing to change his thoughts. So he lied awake, hoping sheer exhaustion would deliver him, from images of an angel.

-/-/-/-/-

Angela stood outside the door to rec room two, this time opting for a short, red salsa dress that accentuated her already long legs, and black heels.

Roadhog didn't know why his throat went dry at the sight of her in that dress. All he knew was that he didn't like it. "Salsa." he declared, stepping into the room with Angela at his heels.

The music was decidedly faster and more upbeat than the waltz. The speedy percussion and _shk-shk-shk_ of maracas brought Angela back to her time in Dorado, helping those wounded by Los Muertos. Bittersweet memories of injured children, sleepless nights, and the occasional, regretful thought if what she did made a difference.

But with Roadhog, oddly, his silence suited the music perfectly. They spun and twirled, matching the music beat for beat, step to step, the singer's vocals pounding against the pulse in their ears, courtesy of their own hearts. 

Towards the finale, Roadhog thrust out Angela, the doctor spinning expertly on her heels before she was firmly gripped by Roadhog's hand. As quickly as she was thrust, she was pulled back, spinning right into the elder junker's chest just as the song finished with a guitar flourish.

She panted, trying to get some air back into her lungs after their activity. The beat still echoed in her ears. So did the pounding of her heart. "Well, Roadhog...that was certainly quite the workout." Silence was his response, though his breathing was much heavier. 

However, his silence belied his actions behind the mask. He was staring at Angela. Not his usual staring where he was analyzing or scrutinizing. Taking her in. The vibrant red of her dress and the way it brushed her legs. The damp patch of sweat forming at her cleavage. Her flushed face, her sparkling blue eyes. The delicate pink glow of her skin.

A beeping sound jolted him from his musings. Reaching into her dress pocket, she frowned at the pager. "I'm being paged. Apparently Genji suffered a...Wi-Fi related emergency? That can't be good. Same time tomorrow, Roadhog." She moved to leave, but was stopped.

"Wait."

Roadhog whirled her around, holding a hand out to her. She barely had time to flinch before his thumb brushed lightly across her face, tucking golden locks behind her ear.

"Stray hair."

-/-/-/-/-

Chamomile. Two sugars. Sometimes three if she was feeling a bit naughty. Half a teaspoon of honey. A splash of milk. A bit of cream. A single peppermint leaf.

Angela had picked up the recipe during her junior year abroad in Italy. Trial and error led to the magnificent condition, a tried and true drink that got her through the worst of some of her youth. One cup, and she would be out like a light in no time.

Two cups later and she was still wide awake. Finals, term papers, adjusting her suit, even Overwatch missions from days past didn't keep her up as much. 

Not as much as her thoughts on Roadhog.

She'd been apprehensive when she first met him, and Junkrat. Everyone had. They'd seen the news reports and researched their...extensive criminal backgrounds. But time and camaraderie on the battlefield did wonders for changing your opinions about a person. 

Apparently, so did dancing with them. 

Angela still remembered the touch administered by the mighty Australian. His hands, so impossibly large and massive, yet so precise and delicate, to tuck the hair of someone as swanlike as she.

So large...yet so delicate.

She let out a sigh and ripped open a third bag of tea. Chamomile.

-/-/-/-/-

Samba was the music, and dance, of choice for the day. Staying true to the last two days, Angela had dressed accordingly; a blue-green sequined minidress, and white flats. As Roadhog approached, he quirked an unseen eyebrow.

"From my time in Brazil." she spoke, as if reading his mind. "It's silly, a friend said I should buy it, and it was affordable...I haven't worn it since."

"And still fits."

She knew there was no malice in his words, but Angela still clucked her tongue and did a light twirl, resting a hand on her hip as she stopped, flashing Roadhog a confident smirk. "You tell me."

Almost a full minute of silence passed between the two before Roadhog pushed the door open. "Let's go."

Salsa might as well have been slow dancing compared to samba. The music seemed to take on a life of its own as they feverishly danced, the cheerful, frenetic, outrageously energetic music setting them ablaze. The unity of the choros, the never ending quest of drums, and the attention-seeking jubilation of trumpets, all came together, music of pure chaos and sheer... _enjoyment_.

Back and forth they moved, at times their movements viciously clashing against one another, at other times the symbol of balance. So intense was their dance, Angela's hair spilled from its formerly tight bun golden waves cascading down her shoulders. The sight nearly made Roadhog miss a step.

_Oh oh oh oh oh (olha o balanço carioca!) oh oh oh oh oh..._

As the song reached its finale, Roadhog lifted up Angela around the waist and hoisted her high, the doctor striking an elegant pose nestled perfectly in Roadhog's hands.

_Pediu pra parar, parou._

Angela let out a deep breath as she was lowered. "Well, that was certainly invigorating." she sighed. Grabbing a nearby towel, she began wiping her face. "Wherever did you get such music?"

"Lúcio."

The doctor raised a brow. "Oh? And what did he say or do when you asked?"

"Gave me fifty more discs."

She laughed, a musical tinkling sound like wind chimes. "Well, thank you kindly for all the lessons, Roadhog. They were rather enjoyable."

"Hm."

He ambled towards Angela again, moving to brush a lock of hair from her face, but was stopped by her hand grabbing his own. The contrast was sharp; small, slender, silken, against massive, wide, rough. For the first time, in a very long time, he was surprised. 

"You know, Roadhog..." Angela spoke, her voice so low it was barely above a whisper. "I've always been fascinated by hands. I suppose it's the doctor in me."

Roadhog realized he was still breathing heavily, and it was no longer from the dancing.

"Yours in particular are very...interesting." She turned Roadhog's hand over and ghosted her palm over his. "I've seen you wreak such havoc with them, it's appalling. And yet...they can be so gentle."

Roadhog didn't realize Angela had moved so close until he felt her warmth against him. 

"Still waters truly run deep in you, Roadhog."

And for the second time that day, Roadhog was surprised. Angela pressed her lips to the junker's finger.

The kiss was soft, but purposeful. She kissed again, and again, and again, trailing a path down the finger until she reached the palm, then back up again. Roadhog stood perfectly still, unsure of how to act, thankful Angela couldn't see the way his face flushed.

The doctor was silent as she kissed, moving from finger to finger with peck after peck. Until she started licking. Her tongue darted between his fingers, warm and pink and wet. She looked up at him, those blue orbs boring into his very being. Her cheeks were reddened with lust, and he was unable to keep up the charade of restraint. 

He grabbed Angela by the arm and practically dragged her out of the room, racing off to the other end of the watchpoint, where his quarters were. Unlike Junkrat, he was considerably more devoted to cleanliness, and as such, all his weaponry was centered on workbench on one end of the room. 

The second they were inside he sealed the door and faced Angela. "Dress, off, n--" But she was already beating him to the punch, her flats kicked off into a corner and pulling up her dress, revealing faded yellow bra and panties.

Roadhog should've known. As a first responder, speed was vital to her. 

He just managed to get his boots and shorts off as Angela stripped out of her underwear. Her milk white skin already had his mouth watering.

Angela was drinking him in, as well. Her eyes were drawn to the swinging cock between his legs. A flash of apprehension shuddered through her first; if he went it too fast, too hard, he'd likely break her apart. But he'd been gentle with her up until now; her likely not change that.

...Would he?

Her question was partially answered when Roadhog scooped her up and there her on the bed, creaking beneath his weight as he climbed in. 

"Will you hurt me?" she asked as he spread her legs apart.

"Not unless you want." he rumbled.

A mighty finger pressed against her slit and she gasped, a small spasm in her leg making it flare out slightly. She whispered in German as she calmed herself, Roadhog moving his finger in slow circular motions. He moved his other hand to Angela's mouth, the young doctor taking a finger into her mouth.

Angela knew better than to ask him to take off the mask. He likely wouldn't, and she figured some things were better left a mystery. 

Roadhog rubbed until he could feel her arousal dribble down his finger. Lifting it up to his mask, he raised it slightly, revealing his scarred chin. He slipped the finger into his mouth, tasting her sweet nectar.

"...You taste like cotton candy."

Of all the things she expected him to say, it wasn't that. "I...what?"

"Cotton candy. You taste like it." 

Angela didn't know what was more odd; the statement, or the image of Roadhog eating cotton candy. 

She had no time to entertain either as she felt the tip of his cock slide into her.

Roadhog expected a push and an irritated lecture about condoms and safe sex. He didn't expect her to moan and dig her hands into his shoulders.

" _Mein gott!**_ " she gasped, her nails sinking into his flesh. "So...big."

He let out what sounded like an appreciative grunt before pushing himself deeper into her. Angela's breathing started coming out in shaky, shuddering gasps. He settled into a steady rhythm of in and out, their hips rocking against each other. She was so warm...so soft...like silk.

Angela, meanwhile, was doing her best to keep her senses. She was a doctor, an educated woman of medicine, but the hard, thrusting dick molding its shape in her pussy was rendering her incapable of forming a complete thought that wasn't 'Harder.' or 'Faster.' 

Both his breathing and thrusting increased. Angela looked up at him, staring into those featureless lenses. Yet somehow she knew; he was staring down at her. 

She came first, the undignified, high-pitched shriek coming from her shocking Roadhog, but not enough to halt his own orgasm mere seconds after hers.

Angela fell gently onto the bed, a sigh of ecstasy flowing from her mouth. Roadhog rolled to his sighed and gripped Angela in his arms, spooning the doctor until sleep overtook him.

She sighed and snuggled into his embrace, smiling as sleep came for her as well. "Still waters, indeed." she cooed, enjoying the rough, gentle feel of those fascinating hands.

END

**Author's Note:**

> *thank you  
> **my god


End file.
